


I Put A Spell On You

by Swing Set in December (swing_set13)



Category: Sabrina the Teenage Witch (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swing_set13/pseuds/Swing%20Set%20in%20December
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles turns sixteen. It's a very magical time. Especially for Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Put A Spell On You

**Author's Note:**

> I blame watching old Sabrina episodes. Curse you Sabrina! This was only my tumblr but I figured I should get my act together and post them here too. And probably will be continued. Soon. So many things to do.

Stiles waking up hovering over his bed on his sixteenth birthday is unexpected. More so when he panics and freaks out, falling back into his bed, sheets tangled everywhere only to meet the dry as bones stare of his dog. He thinks he may have broken the box frame. 

“Did that just happen?” rasps Stiles, looking up from his tangle of sheets. His back hurts like hell and he can feel a headache coming. One of the ones that last all day. Not something he needs on his birthday.

His dog just yawns and if Stiles didn’t know any better, rolls his eyes.

“Just a weird dream is all. Got to lay off the Code Red before bed,” he murmurs to himself, stumbling out of his bed. His dog leaps onto the bed, sprawling out on it.

“Derek! Come on! We talked about this! Boundaries! The shedding!” grouses Stiles, trying to move the solid weight of canine from his bed. “It’s my birthday, dude.”

All he gets is a sour look.

“Urgh, fine. Just don’t drool over my pillow.” 

Stiles throws his hands up in defeat and heads off to where he can smell his mom’s infamously delicious pancakes. He tracks down some clean clothes on his way down the stairs. Ignoring how his dog turns his head. 

***

Stiles greets his mom with a hug and a kiss on the cheek when she hands him a plate of pancakes teeming with strawberries and a side of bacon.

“I love you,” he says reverently at the pancakes. His mom snorts in laughter and his father scowls from his half a grapefruit and fiber at the kitchen table.

“Good morning, sweetie. Happy birthday,” his mom smiles and his dad parrots when Stiles sits across from him and stealthy sneaks him a pancake.

“I saw that,” his mom says without turning from the stove.

“Busted,” says the Sheriff but steals a piece of bacon before his wife turns around.

“Now I know we were going to wait for tonight to give presents,” says his mom, warmly. ”But somethings have to be between us.”

“Scott’s practically lives here,” quips Stiles. 

“So, we got you a little something,” his mom continues, lifting a heavy box onto the table from the floor. It rattles the cutlery on the table. “It’s been in my family for generations.”

Stiles wilts a bit, it’s definitely not an XBOX. But his mom and dad are looking at him with hesitant smiles that has Stiles tearing into the wrapping paper with gusto. 

“A black pot? And a book,” says Stiles, bewildered, looking inside the rather large pot. “Thanks, Mom, Dad, I mean-“

He’s without words. They fail him.

“It’s a cauldron,” says his father. “You go to school, don’t you?”

“Ha ha, Dad. How very Harry Potter. You know I was more of a Percy Jackson guy myself - I can um put my pens in it. Maybe Derek’s doggie treats?”

His dad snorts and his mom actually swats his shoulder.

“That’s not what it’s for. That bestiary has been in our family for generations.”

Stiles looks at the book. Leather bound and screams dust mites and paper cuts. 

“Stiles, we have something to tell you. You see there are two realms, the natural and the supernatural and it turns out the immutable laws of physics-” his mom starts off only to be interrupted by his dad.

“You’re a witch,” his dad declares, dryly. His mom smiles warmly at him.

“You mean, ‘ _Yer a wizard, ‘arry_ ’?” says Stiles in his best British accent. His father rolls his eyes and his mom frowns.

“No, a witch. Wizards don’t exist,” she says. “Now you’re not alone. I’m a witch, your father’s mortal, Derek’s-“

“You know for a second there you almost made me forget about my first day at school,” glares Stiles. “Practical joke received. Thanks. I’ll see you guys later. I’m going to be late.”

He picks up his school bag from the floor and takes his coat from the hook on the wall.

“Your mother isn’t kidding, Stiles,” his dad says with his Beacon Hills' sheriff voice. “But if you don’t believe us-“

“You’ll find out soon enough,” his mom finishes, ominously. “Just don’t make too many hand gestures,” she says, fretting. 

“Have you met our son?” asks his father but Stiles is already out the backdoor. He nearly falls over Derek, who somehow found his way outside and is sunbathing.

“This is officially the worst birthday,” grouses Stiles, sitting down on the porch to tie his shoes. Derek’s head finds his way into his lap, demanding a good head scratch.

“I bet it’s revenge for that toilet paper incident last month. Could my parents be even more weird?” he muses.

Stiles gives Derek one more head rub before heading to his Jeep. Derek’s eyes trail is wake, glowing a luminescent blue.

“You have no idea,” Derek says under his breath but Stiles' is already pulling out of the driveway, music blaring.


End file.
